is it a crime
if my poems do not rhyme?
i try to do spoken word
but my intentions must be blurred
just because my style is different from yours
doesn't mean others should get higher scores
the age groups have different maturity
but you expect us to keep our purity
you expect us to stay cliche
but that is child's play
i try to evolve my style
but you must think it is vile
i don't understand what i have done wrong
is it simply that i have strayed from the throng?
i do not regret what i did
only that my poem has been hid

Dear future self,
I wish I were you
so I would know if it was possible to stop hating myself.
I see other people do it so flawlessly
but every time I do I wind up deeper in this dark trench,
struggling to keep air in my lungs.
It's hard to do when you feel the ocean draining from your body
as if the tide were running low for now,
creeping farther and farther away from the shore
but i don't remember the last time the tide was high;
I feel like the waves will never touch the shore again.
The ecosystems along the sand are all ******* up
because this one small thing has changed;
I can't count the number of times I've tried pouring water on the dry beach
to trick the world into thinking everything was normal,
I wish it were that simple…
I wish I could throw up,
then maybe the burn of salt water in my throat will remind me that I'm real,
that I'm not just some empty cave,
echoing for eternity with my sobs,
but the water will only leave through my eyes.
It runs down my face and stains my faded jeans,
spelling out messages to me from the world:
"overdramatic"
"waste of space"
"get over it"

How could I possibly get over it when I can't even think clearly?
God **** it's so hard to breathe.
We as humans used to be able to inhale water without it hurting;
it was second nature to us.
but we quickly unlearn this the moment we take our first breath;
most of us will never need this skill again.
I often find myself wondering if I will ever learn how to take in the water like an old friend,
so it will stop being painful,
if my lungs will ever become numb to the sensation of water trickling into them.
Sincerely,
A girl too deep in the abyss to dig herself out

When you allow someone to tear you apart,
rip the mask from your face,
peer into the abyss to see who you really are,
you start to love the person they show you in return.
You don’t even know if that person is another mask or not,
but you love them with all your heart
and you can't imagine ever being without them.
But how can love make me feel so **** empty?

I think my biggest flaw is I fall too hard too fast
Even if there's no one there to catch me at the bottom.
I jump straight into the dark pit,
Love with my whole heart without looking down
even if I know it won't turn out well in the end.
Every time this happens I come out a little worse off,
A little more mangled than before.
I try to pick up my own broken pieces but it's hard when you're as torn apart as I am;
You stop being able to discern what piece of bone goes where,
Which pieces of flesh match up with each other.
I see myself as a puzzle that's all one colour;
I need to find someone who can tell the difference between my shades of black.